


You Live For The Fight, When It's All That You've Got.

by RavenPoe



Category: Taxi Driver (1976)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:54:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26672506
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavenPoe/pseuds/RavenPoe
Summary: Instead of dying a hero's death at the hands of Iris's former pimp, Travis was brought back from the abyss by an unusual twist of fate. Eight years have come and gone since that defining moment, and life has become just as dull and lonely as before. But will a chance meeting with a like minded woman change all that? Can God's lonely man truly find a connection with another?
Relationships: Travis Bickle/Original Female Character
Kudos: 6





	1. Holding out for a Hero

**Author's Note:**

> I decided to delete my Taxi Driver story. "Dark Hearts are Lonely Hunters" and do a complete reimagining of it. My OFC character will pretty much remain the same; however the basic storyline, writing style, general tone and atmosphere will be completely different.
> 
> My personal portrayal of Travis Bickle will also be very different, in that it will be truer to the original source material. Between multiple viewings of the movie and a complete read through of the 1976 book of the same name, I now have a better idea of who Travis is, how he thinks, how he would react in certain situations, and so on. Let me know what you guys think in the comments below. :)

_September 28, 1984_

_8 years have come and gone, since that fateful night I killed Sport and the old bastard to rescue my sweet little Iris; and absolutely nothing has changed. Crime is still going strong, and people are still as selfish and ignorant as ever._

_I had my 15 minutes of fame, and that was that. I went from being the heroic taxi driver, to being just another shmuck in no time flat. And the moment all that love and praise had gone away, was the moment I realized just how alone I truly was._

_Now I'm just a poor slob working 8,10, sometimes 12 hour days; 6 days a week, sometimes 7. Just another lonely man, trapped forever in the never-ending Hell that is New York City._

_T. Bickle_

\-------------------------  
"I got a tip for you! Drop dead!" a short, elderly lady shouted as she climbed out the back of Travis's rundown taxi cab, slamming the rear passenger door shut with all her might.

"Yeah, yeah. Blow it out your ass, you crochety old hag," the bitter cabbie muttered morosely to himself, fighting the urge to flip her the bird. God how he hated living here. Every day was the exact same.

Between servicing ungrateful cantankerous geezers, self righteous business men, and brain dead gold diggers, he was amazed that he hadn't put a gun to his head and painted the walls with his damaged brains. But then what kind of man would he be, if he gave up so easily? He'd be a coward, that's what he would be.

Travis finished counting the wrinkled dollar bills that the old bat had practically thrown at him, and placed them in his cash box with a sigh. He was somewhat relieved that she hadn't stiffed him, although he certainly could have done without her very generous 'tip.'

Ever since killing the evil, child molesting pimps to save the sweet, innocent prostitute, he had expected to make some kind of positive impact on this shitty excuse for a city. But, other than a few words of love and praise from complete strangers, and a poorly written thank you letter from Iris's parents, his heroic actions had long been forgotten.

There were more important issues to focus on now, like the war on AIDS and the scandal that happened at this year's summer Olympics.

Travis yawned and grabbed his well used clipboard, taking quick inventory of all the places he'd been tonight, and how many miles he managed to rack up. Just one more fare and he could call it a night.

_Thank fucking God._

Just then, the same passenger door the old lady had slammed opened, signaling his final customer for the evening. Looking into the rearview mirror, Travis's languid brown eyes snapped wide open at sight of the most breathtaking hazel orbs he had ever seen; staring back from behind a pair of thin lenses, set in plastic magenta colored frames.

From there, he saw the pale face of a rather cute looking woman, possibly in her late twenties or early thirties. She had a strong nose, high flushed cheekbones, and thin dark eyebrows. Her long, reddish brown hair was incredibly tangled, and her pink cupid bow lips were lax, sobbing and gasping like there was no tomorrow.

It wasn't unusual for women to be walking around this area at 2 in the morning, peddling their wares. But something told Travis that this disheveled beauty, with her faded pink cotton pajamas and matching house slippers, wasn't part of their world.

"You okay, lady?" he inquired, "you look like you've been put through the ringer."

"I-I'm fine." she hiccupped between sobs.

Travis felt his stone cold heart soften just a little at the sight of this distraught woman, trying desperately to catch her breath as a river of tears flowed from those watery, multicolored gems.

"I-I'm s-sorry about that, darlin' " she whispered in a thick western accent, wiping her face dry with the heel of her hands. "T-Take me to 333 E 70th street as fast as ya can, please."

"Isn't that where the Children’s Advocacy Center of Manhattan is located at?* I know it ain't none of my business, but why would you wanna go there so late at night?" Travis asked, writing down the location before flipping the meter and pulling away from the curb.

"Oh, I volunteer there whenever I've got some extra hours ta kill. I usually help the kids durin' the day, but if there's a nighttime emergency and the police ain't respondin' fast enough, they give me a call." She answered with a soft, breathy chuckle.

Travis handed her a couple of tissues when she tried to wipe her runny nose on her sleeve. Her soft words of thanks warmed his soul, causing a small grin to spread along his own dour features.

"That's uh, that's pretty noble of you. But why would they call you, if the cops aren't responding fast enough?"

"Because I ain't got nothin' left to lose. I got no friends, no husband, and no kids of my own; my parents are dead and the rest of my family couldn't give two shits about me."

"So, when some child molestin' step dad or psychotic bitch of a mother breaks their restrainin' order, or show signs of continued abuse, they call me in to handle things until the cops can get their lazy asses in gear. "

Before he could open his mouth to respond, the woman let out a sudden, high pitched scream. "STOP THE CAR!!"

Travis slammed his foot on the brakes, causing the cab's ancient tires to let out a symphony of squeals. The sudden, jarring stop nearly forced him to drive off the broken down road, and right into a fire hydrant.

The woman practically kicked open the door and leapt out from the back seat. She didn't seem to notice, or even care, about the broken glass that lay underneath her barely covered feet. She just balled her hands into fists and marched determinedly towards the children's center, where a small group of people had gathered outside.

A middle aged, sleazy looking man was standing in front of the brick building, screaming obscenities at two lovely ladies in their early 50's. A smaller, shabby looking woman cowered behind him, while a scrawny little boy cringed beside him, crying in pain at the vice like grip the man had on his fragile arm.

With his expensive Brooks Brothers suit, slick back hair and solid gold Rolex, the man was obviously one of those upscale New York yuppy assholes. You know the ones.

They're the sick bastards who beat their wives and children within an inch off their lives, before fucking their secretaries or raping whatever child prostitute they can find in the dead of night.

The lucky stiffs who make $400 an hour at Daddy's company, and treat minimum wage drones like dog shit on the bottom of their shoes.

Yeah, those fuckers.  
\-------------------------  
The woman slowed to a stop right in front of the yuppy asshole and his whimpering wife; her fists planted firmly on her curved hips, as her large, expressive eyes narrowed into a rather impressive death glare.

The screaming lunatic was shocked into silence by the sheer audacity of this strange woman, standing before him. Just who did she think she was, getting into his face like that?

Sensing trouble, Travis reached into his glove compartment and grabbed his Smith & Wesson 38 special. This was the only gun he was able to hang on to, since being released into the general public after a 2 month stint in the joint.

With a deep breath, he climbed out of the cab and walked toward the small crowd, stopping about 10 yards away. Had he not still been under probation for that little stunt he pulled all those years ago, he would have wasted this bastard in no time flat.

It was actually kind of interesting to see that the yuppy's strong build and impressive height of 6 feet 4 inches did nothing to put the fear of God into this obstinate woman, despite her soft, curvy body and 5 foot 10 inch frame.

"You got a problem there, sweet cheeks?" the asshole asked with a smug, shit eating grin.

"Yeah, I got a problem. Why dontcha pick on someone your own size, fucktard? Or do ya just get off on beatin' little kids, who've done nothin' wrong."

The asshole's smug grin slowly morphed into a sickening sneer at her disrespectful tone. How fucking dare she speak to him that way!

In the blink of an eye, he let go of the boy's arm and violently backhanded the woman hard enough to send her glasses flying from her face; but not quite hard enough to knock her flat on her cute, heart shaped butt.

In fact, once the initial shock wore off, she straightened her stance and looked right back into the man's cold, cruel gaze. A dark red bruise crept along the left side of the woman's once ashen face, as a trickle of blood ran down the corner of her mouth.

The asshole couldn't believe it. Not only had this bitch not let out a single sound, she didn't cower away from him in the slightest. 

"Leave her alone, you scum sucking shit heel!!" Travis shouted, pointing his gun at the yuppy asshole before his arm could swing back for another hit. Fuck the consequences, this rat bastard was going down!

The cabbie was just about open fire, when the asshole reached back and pulled a Glock 42 from his back pocket. He wrapped an arm around the woman's throat in a tight headlock, pointing the small hand gun to her temple with an expression of barely controlled savagery.

"Drop your gun, or I'll blow this bitch's brains out!" he growled through gritted teeth.

Travis had no choice, but to kneel down and surrender his weapon. Standing back up with his hands held high in the air, the cabbie was surprised to see a look of calm serenity on the woman's face.

With a small twitch of her bloodied lips, she grabbed the asshole's arm from around her neck, and sank her teeth right down to the bone. He shoved her away with a high-pitched shriek of pain. Apparently he could dish it out, but, like all whiny bitches, he couldn't take it. A small grunt escaped the woman's bloodied lips, when her back collided with the building's concrete porch.

"YOU FUCKING BITCH, I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!!!"

The asshole pointed his gun right at the woman as her limbs lay spread across the stone steps. Her calm, collected gaze bored straight into his; her lips stretched into a mad grin. It was almost like she was daring him to pull the trigger. _Come on, you chicken shit_ her look seemed to convey _Be a man, pull the trigger._

But before the bastard even had a chance to respond, the loud wail of police sirens echoed from the streets behind him. 

"New York City Police Department!! Put the gun down, or we'll be forced to shoot!!"

The asshole's whole body shook in both shock and anger, as he turned to face the borage of police officers. There were six in total, each one of their guns pointed right at his yuppy head. Knowing there was no way out, the asshole let the gun slip from his grasp.

He fell to his knees with his hands placed submissively behind his head. Steel cuffs slapped onto his bony wrists, as his Miranda rights were recited to him. Five of the officers then loaded him into the backseat of the nearest patrol car, as one stayed behind to help the woman to her feet.

"It's about God damn time you guys got here. Another minute, and he would've painted the porch with my brains."

"Yeah, yeah." a tanned, heavily muscled cop with a thick mustache chided good naturedly; picking up the woman's glasses from the gutter and handing them to her with a grin. The grin faded away when he saw the extent of the damage the asshole had caused her.

As gently as he could, the cop grabbed her chin and turned her face to the left, hissing through his teeth sympathetically at the once crimson bruise that had now darkened to a sickening purple. "ya might wanna have that looked at, hun."

The woman stepped away with a giggle, wincing slightly when she put her glasses back on. "I've had worst." She wiped the blood from her mouth with the back of her surprisingly steady hand. "I want that yuppy asshole charged with attempted murder, by the way."

"Yes, ma'am." The large officer snickered at her authoritative tone.

He turned and followed the others, as they climbed into their respective patrol cars. With the asshole in custody, all six coppers drove back to the police station. They were more than ready to hook him, book him, and cook him.  
\-------------------------  
Travis's gaze never once left the woman's beautiful face or curvaceous body, as she turned and walked back towards the little boy and the two older women, slowly kneeling down to their level.

Retrieving his piece, the courageous cabbie got to his feet and made his way to the four strangers; the boy's mother having caught a ride with one of the officers on lesser charges of child abuse and neglect.

"It's all gonna be okay, Jacob. Those horrible people will never hurt you again," the younger woman whispered softly to the frightened little boy. He leapt into her arms with a relieved laugh, the nightmare was finally over. She held little Jacob close, rocking him back and forth as she ruffled his dark hair and kissed his forehead, over and over. 

"Thank you. Thank you so much," he whispered with a sob. 

"You don't have to thank me, sweet angel. I'm just glad, I was able to save you before something truly horrible happened."

She let him go after a couple of minutes, climbing to her feet and smiling sweetly when he and the two older women went back inside. It was way past the little boy's bedtime.

The woman then turned to face Travis, seemingly un phased by the blood that was still trickling from her mouth, and the garish bruise that now colored the entire left side of her face.

"You were very brave to help me out there, darlin'. Most cabbies would've just high-tailed it back home with their tails between their legs, but not you. There's somethin' special about you, I can tell."

"Nah," Travis mumbled timidly, his own tan cheeks burning brightly. "I'm just a regular 'ol taxi driver. I-I'm nothin' special."

The woman took a small wallet from the pockets of her pajama pants, "Coulda fooled me."

Travis placed his calloused fingers on the back of her soft hand and whispered." no, this one's on me."

"Well, ain't you a gentleman," she stuffed her wallet back into her pocket, with an amused grin. "My name's Emily, by the way. Emily Burton."

"It's nice to meet you, Emily Burton. My name is Travis. Travis Bickle."

Emily's eyes widened. "You're Travis Bickle? _the_ Travis Bickle?"

"Y-Yeah. Wait, you know who I am?"

"Well, of course I do. I mean, who doesn't know about the heroic taxi driver, who risked his life to rescue that poor little girl from those degenerate, child molestin' fucks. I can't believe I didn't recognize ya before," she delightfully exclaimed, looking at him like he was a world famous celebrity.

"I-I ain't no hero. I was just in the right place, at the right time," Travis ran his hand nervously through his scraggily hair, "that's all."

"Well, you're a hero to me."

"I am?"

"Mhmmm. In fact, your story of bravery and heroism kinda inspired me. It taught me that the only way to make the world a better place, was to become a better person."

This time, it was Travis's eyes that widened in disbelief. "I-It did? really?"

"Yep," she said with a shy giggle.

Travis cleared his throat. "W-Would you like to have some coffee and pie with me?"

"I'd love to."

"Great! um.. how about we meet at Charles' coffee shop, tomorrow at noon?"

"It's a date," Emily said with a small wince. "I'd better get an ice pack on this, before it gets any worse. See ya tomorrow Travis." She blew him a quick kiss before walking back to the children's center, her hand carefully cupped around her swollen cheek.

The muscles in Travis's face ached, as they stretched into a real, honest to God smile. He let out a deep, wistful sigh while he watched Emily walk through the large building's heavy wooden doors; climbing back into his cab once he knew that she was safely inside.

Sitting on the worn driver's seat, a strange, almost foreign feeling began to wash over Travis. It took him a moment or two to figure out that that feeling...was love. Holy fucking shit, he was in love!

He just couldn't believe this was happening. After years of hoping and praying, of dreaming and wishing, there she was, in the flesh. The one woman put on this Earth that could finally give his empty life some kind of meaning.

With a twist of his hand and a jingle of keys, Travis's faithful metal steed roared to life, once more. He turned off his _on duty_ light and pulled from the curb, driving through the mostly empty streets in complete silence.

So many thoughts ran through his head as he carefully maneuvered his way through downtown Manhattan. Although they just met, Emily had woken something deep inside of Travis; something he never thought could or would possibly exist.

He tried hard not to get too ahead of himself. After all, that was how he managed to fuck things up with Betsy. He would take it slow, but not too slow. He was getting up there in age, after all.

As Travis turned on the radio, a very familiar song began playing through the worn speakers. His smile widened, if that were even possible. This was a sign from the Gods, it just had to be.

Travis let out a large, jaw popping yawn. _I'm going to sleep good tonight, that's for damn sur_ e, he thought pleasantly to himself, as he drove straight on through the night.

_Awake again I can't pretend_   
_I know I'm alone and close to the end_   
_Of the feeling we've known_   
_How long have I been sleeping_   
_How long have I been drifting alone through the night_   
_How long have I been running for that morning flight_   
_Through the whispered promises and the changing light_   
_Of the bed where we both lie_   
_Late for sky._


	2. Streetwise Hercules

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "My knight may not wear a coat of shining armor, but his code of glowing honor will never fail to protect us both from evils far worse than any fire-breathing dragon.”
> 
> Protect her, fight for her, love her, hold her and laugh with her. But don't make her fall, if you don't plan on catching her.

Travis stared anxiously out one of the large windows of Charles's Coffee Shop, as he smoothed the wrinkles from his yellow and black flannel shirt; making sure all the clear buttons were in place, and that the fly on his neatly ironed dark blue jeans was zipped up tight.

What the hell had he been thinking, asking Emily out like that. So many things had changed since the infamous 'child molester massacre', as it came to be known by the locals. The few cabbies that had given him the time of day before, now avoided him like the drunk chick at a party. Not that he could blame them, though. He was a social pariah, after all.

And forget about any romantic liaison. The few women his "heroic" actions had actually managed to attract, all ran for the hills the moment they got to know the real man behind the mohawk. Even Betsy, who decided to give him another chance at a second date, refused to answer his calls the next day.

A light, breathy voice broke through his reverie. "Travis?"

A surprised gasp fell from the cabbie's lax mouth at the sight of the most abso-fucking-lutely drop dead gorgeous woman he'd ever seen, standing right before him.

"Emily?"

The lovely lady's once tangled brown hair was now brushed to absolute perfection, cascading down her back in a wave of fiery copper. From behind the same glasses she wore last night, neon pink eye shadow and black mascara made the green in her hazel eyes pop.

The ruby red lipstick painted on her cupid bow lips glistened like rose petals, while a light dusting of rouge made her high cheekbones truly stand out. She even managed to hide most of the bruise on the left side of her face with some expertly applied foundation and powder.

She wore a knee length, form fitting black cotton dress with light pink polka dots. A matching purse, black pantyhose, and black high heel shoes completed the ensemble. Small pink sapphire studs shined from her elf like ears; a matching pink sapphire pendant glimmered from a small silver necklace around her swan like neck.

He noticed that she was also wearing a name tag from the New York Public Library.

_So she's a librarian, huh? Neat._

"Travis, are you alright?"

"Yeah, I-I'm fine..." he cleared his throat, " um..y-you came."

"Of course I came. Was I not supposed to?" Emily inquired, sliding into the seat opposite Travis, a concerned look marring her lovely face.

"N-No..I mean, yes.. I mean.." he stuttered, running his hands through his perfectly combed hair with a nervous chuckle. "I-It's good to see you. Your face looks a lot better, by the way."

Emily smiled sweetly as she placed her purse beside her. "That's the power of make up, darlin'. It can cover acne, sun damage, age spots; and the occasional bruise, left by a bully with a brain as small as his dick."

Travis burst out laughing at her rather crude comment, nearly causing ice water to shoot straight out his nose. Emily was not far behind. The laughter continued on for several minutes, until it eventually died down into occasional sniggers.

Leaning back in his seat, Travis's smile widened as his intense gaze explored her soft, angelic features.

"What?" She asked.

"Nothin'"

Emily decided to let it go, picking up a nearby menu and looking inside. "Let's see what they've got to eat here."

A nice looking, middle aged waitress with green eyes and short blonde hair came by to take their orders.

"I'll have some coffee and a slice of apple pie with melted yellow cheese." Travis said, without looking at the menu.

"You got it," the waitress said, writing down his order with a friendly smile "and for you, hun?" she asked Emily.

"I'll have the same thing he's having, with a bowl of fruit salad, please."

The waitress wrote down her order and walked back to the kitchen window, leaving the two of them alone again.

"Apple pie with melted yellow cheese, huh?" Emily asked teasingly.

"Yeah," Travis said with a nonchalant shrug. "It's really good."

"Well, who am I to judge? You're looking at a girl who puts ketchup on her scrambled eggs."

"You put ketchup on scrambled eggs?"

"I sure do," she smirked.

"And here I thought putting cheese on apple pie was weird," he said teasingly.

Just then, the coffee, pie and fruit salad arrived. Travis dug right into his warm, flaky dessert as Emily stared curiously at hers. It did smell pretty appetizing.

 _Here goes nothin'_ she thought to herself, spearing just a small amount of pie onto her fork and placing it carefully into her mouth with a grimace. The grimace instantly disappeared, once the sweetness from the pie perfectly melded with the saltiness of the cheese, creating quite the culinary treat.

"Hmmm, damn that is good."

"See? I told ya."  
  
"Yes, you most certainly did," Emily took another bite. "But you gotta promise me somethin'. The next time you order scrambled eggs, you'll slather it in ketchup before taking that first bite. It's only fair, since I tried putting cheese on apple pie."

"You got it," Travis said with a wink.

A cute, light pink blush bled through the many layers of powder and foundation that blanketed Emily's normally pale face. It even managed to burst through the dark violet bruise that had yet to truly fade.

"So, um... what brings you to New York?" Travis asked.

"Oh, the climate," Emily answered with a smirk; her light western accent turning into a thick, southern drawl. "I'm thinkin' of settlin' right here in New York City, counselor."

Travis chuckled at her smart ass remark, "Let me guess, Cape Fear?"

Emily's eyes widened with a gasp. "How the hell did you know that? Nobody ever gets that reference."

"Probably because it's one of my favorite movies."

"Mine too," she exclaimed.

"I don't think I ever met a woman who actually watched that movie, let alone enjoyed it." Travis adjusted himself, leaning forward with his arms crossed and his elbows on the table. "What other movies do you like?"

"Oh, I dunno," Emily sat back in deep thought, finishing the last bite of her pie before digging into her fruit salad. "Right off the top of my head, I'd have to say: Both Godfather movies, Scarface, the Shinin', A Clockwork Orange, just to name a few."

"You like both Godfather movies!?"

"Yep," Emily cleared her throat, giving Travis her best Marlon Brando impersonation "Someday - and that day may never come - I'll call upon you to do a service for me..."

"But until that day, accept this justice as a gift on my daughter's wedding day." Travis finished with a far more impressive impersonation, complete with an over the top hand flair.

The two of them burst out laughing for the second time that day. Travis honestly couldn't remember the last time he laughed this much, or at all really. And he definitely couldn't remember ever having this kind of connection with another human being. Not with Iris, and certainly not with Betsy.

"Ya know something, darlin. I dunno if anyone told ya this before, but you're a total dead ringer for that Robert De Niro guy ."Emily remarked, with an amused sigh.

"You're not the first one to say that, actually. I mean, I do see the resemblance, but there are some major differences between the two of us."

"Yeah. For one thing, you're a hell of a lot cuter than he is," Emily moaned the moment those words left her beautiful lips; her entire face flushing a dark crimson, as her eyes clenched shut in embarrassment.

"Oh my fuckin' God, I can't believe I just said that."

Travis found himself grinning like a mad man at her Freudian slip of the tongue. There had been quite a few women, who commented on his chiseled good looks before. But they had all just been brain dead groupies; using and abusing the heroic cabbie, until it was time to abandon him, for the next big thing.

With a deep breath, Travis slowly reached over and removed her glasses, coming closer and closer until their noses were mere centimeters apart. He leaned forward and gently placed a soft, sweet butterfly kiss on each eyelid. Bright, colorful hazel slowly opened to stare deep into dark, mysterious brown.

"Hey," Travis whispered.

"Hey, Emily whispered back.

They stared at one another for a moment or two, until the lovely librarian shyly broke eye contact with the handsome taxi driver. She sat back and finished the last few bites of her fruit salad, as Travis looked down at the glasses still held in his calloused fingers.

_Oh, what the hell?_

His head snapped back in surprise, the second he slipped them over his regal nose.

"Whoa!" he exclaimed "God damn. You're blind as bat, beautiful."

"Well, duh!" She said in jest, reaching towards Travis with a wiggle of her fingers. He took the glasses off and handed them to back to her, rapidly blinking his eyes to clear them.

"God, I don't know who's weirder. You or me," Emily quipped with a giggle, as she carefully put them back on, adjusting the earpieces until they fit her heart-shaped face, once more.

Travis couldn't help but think back to that lunch he had with Iris, days before everything went to hell. Whenever he had time to think, which was rare these days, he would often ask himself that very same question.

"I think it's kinda of draw there, beautiful." He replied cheekily.

"You know something, Travis. I think you're right."

Emily let out sudden cry of shock, when she caught sight of the time from the diner's cute, sunflower shaped clock.

"Oh shit! It's 5 minutes to 1. Oh, I am gonna to be so fuckin' late." She grabbed her purse and leapt from the table, rooting around in its bottomless pit until she pulled out a nice looking leather billfold.

"I am really sorry darlin'. I wish this didn't have ta end, but if I don't get goin' right now, I am gonna be in so much trouble!" Taking a $5.00 bill from her wallet, she flung it onto the table and rushed right out the front door.

Travis took out his own wallet and paid the rest of the bill in a much more relaxed fashion. Walking out the door, he was met with a fairly common, but none the less, frustrating sight. The poor working girl was being completely ignored by every passing cabbie, in lieu of the rich business men, who could easily afford their own chauffeur driven town car.

Gently grabbing Emily's outstretched arm, Travis turned and pulled her towards his own taxi cab, parked right around the corner from the small diner. He carefully sat her in the front passenger seat, before running around to the driver's side and climbing in.

"Um, what the hell are you doin'? " she asked.

"You need to get back to work, none of the other cabbies are stopping for you," he smirked, "What other choice you got?"

Emily raised an eyebrow. "And how, pray tell, are ya gonna get from here to the library in only 4 minutes, smart guy?"

"Watch and learn."

With a squeal of tires, the unstable cabbie sped through the narrow alley, like a bat out hell; blasting through parts of the city, the innocent librarian had never seen before. In an array of twists and turns, one of which took them through a very sketchy part of town, they arrived in front of the New York Public Library with a minute to spare.

Pulling up to the front of the ancient stone building, Travis put the car in park and looked cautiously over at Emily. He was fully expecting her to start screaming at him for driving like a maniac; as most women would do, in response to such erratic behavior. Instead, he was surprised to see her looking like she just had the time of her life.

"God damn, that was one hell of a ride," she whooped. "You sure do know how to show a girl, a good time."

"I aim to please."

After making sure she didn't forget anything, Emily carefully got out and climbed the stairs to the library's main entrance. Travis lowered the passenger side window, just as she reached the front door.

"Have a good rest of your day!" he yelled.

"You too, darlin'!" she yelled back, blowing him a kiss before disappearing inside.

\-------------------------

_A few hours later_

Travis had meant to ask Emily when she would be off for the day, but it had completely slipped his mind till now. He had planned on showing up, the moment she left work. That way, he could not only make sure she got home safely, but could find out exactly where she lived.

So, he had to use his relatively impressive problem solving skills, to figure it out for himself. He concluded that since her lunch hour was from noon until one, she was a probably full time employee, working until about 6, or 7. She might even work until 8 or 9, depending on her job title and what that exactly entailed.

Since, she would probably leave at the top of one of those hours, he made sure to cruise by the main entrance of the library during these times. But when he didn't see her walk out of the main entrance with each hour that passed, he checked the other entrances on the way back to or from his next fare. Nothing.

 _Where the hell is she?_ Travis thought to himself, as 9 o'clock came and went with no sign of his lovely librarian. He was really beginning to get worried, when he saw the last few patrons walk out the doors.

They were followed by an extremely elderly librarian in her late 80's/ early 90's, who, for all intents and purposes, probably should have retired at least 20 years ago. Travis parked his cab and lowered the front passenger window, just as she shuffled past.

"EXCUSE ME, MA'AM!" he shouted as loud as he could. Travis guessed that the biddy would probably be a bit hard of hearing, considering her very advanced age; and he was right.

The old crone took her sweet time slowing to a complete stop, before turning to stare down at the young cabbie. "What the hell do ya want, boy!?" her raspy, three pack a day voice demanded. " Can't ya see, I'm tryin' ta catch the 9:10 bus to Brooklyn? So, if you ain't here ta give me a free ride home, then FUCK OFF!!"

_God, what was it about this city that turned sweet, elderly ladies into such bitter, cantankerous old cunts?_

"I was just wonderin', if you know a librarian by the name of Emily Burton. She asked me to pick her up after work, but didn't tell me exactly when that would be!"

"Oh. That good for nothin' pain in the ass left 10 minutes ago, through the back entrance. Who are you? her fuck buddy or somethin'?"

Travis blanched at her crude words, too shocked by her perversity to say another word.

The elderly lady harrumphed. " Well if ya are fuckin' her, try to wait a few months before you knock her up, okay? I need her to stay workin' for at least another year, to get everythin' in workin' order." With that said, she turned and hobbled to the bus stop, just in time to catch her ride home.

_What had made Emily think, it was a good idea to walk through this part of town at night? Doesn't she realize how dangerous this city can be?_

Travis carefully drove through the back streets closest to the library's rear entrance, as an unfamiliar sense of dread grew more and more intense, with each passing minute.

After being comfortably numb for so long, this intense feeling of panic stricken fear and unbridled anger, felt like it might just be too much for the former marine to handle. Never in his life, had Travis felt this way about anybody.

Not even when his own beloved Mother suffered a debilitating stroke, did he feel this level of anxiety. It got to the point where Travis was just about ready to yell Emily's name out the window, when he came to a rather interesting sight.

At the entrance of a small alley, a gang of mean-looking, African American youths had gathered around a very familiar looking, curvaceous, pale woman with long brown hair and large hazel eyes. Travis stopped the car, grabbed his gun from the glove box, and leapt out.

"LEAVE HER THE FUCK ALONE!! YOU GOD DAMN, MOTHER FUCKING PORCH MONKEYS!!" Travis shouted like a mad man, as he fired several warning shots into the moonlit sky. The colored men flinched back in response to the sudden noise. They slowly backed away from Emily with their hands held high.

While pointing his piece at each and every punk in turn, Travis noticed that his sweet librarian wasn't cowering. In fact, with her wild hair, dilated eyes, and snarling teeth, the young woman was truly a force to be reckoned with. The knight in shining denim and flannel was impressed with the bravery his beautiful and intelligent princess was showing, in the face of danger.

Fortunately, it didn't take long for the dark skinned young men to run screaming into the night, like the cowards they truly were. Once they were all gone, Travis tucked the small handgun into the back of his jeans and walked slowly to his disheveled beauty.

"My hero," Emily giggled, running her shaky hands through her thick hair, in a vain attempt to tame her wild mane. "This is, what? the second time in less than 24 hours? Why, you're just a regular 'ol knight in shinin' armor, ain't ya? "she shook her hair to fall to the small of her back, when she realized it was a losing battle.

Travis continued staring down at her, as stiff and silent as an immovable statue. Emily's smirk slowly faded into a concerned frown. "W-What..?"

She gasped, when Travis's strong arms wrapped tightly around her, pulling her soft, supple body flush against his slim, muscular frame. The two stood frozen for a time. Emily's arms lay limp at her side, as Travis's long fingers ran gently through her hair, before traveling softly up and down the length of her spine.  
  
After only a moment, his once gentle hands roughly grabbed Emily's shoulders. He pulled her back, just enough for their faces to meet. She stared deep into Travis's chocolate brown orbs, set in an incredibly handsome face. Her eyes widened, when she saw tears fall down his unshaven cheeks.

"T-Travis?"

The brave cabbie suddenly swooped down and pressed his lips firmly against hers. This wasn't just a little peck; oh no. This was a mind blowing, toe curling kiss of pure passion. Emily squeaked before her eyes rolled into the back of her head. No one had ever kissed her like this before; it was like something from her wildest dreams.

They both gasped and panted, once the kiss finally came to an end. Emily broke the awkward silence with a fit of nervous laughter. Unlike last time though, Travis didn't join her. Instead he froze back up, the tightness of his hands becoming too much for her to bare.

"T-T-Travis, ow! l-loosin' your grip, would ya?" Emily cried with a wince and hiss.

"Oh, I'm sorry," Travis mumbled, as he absentmindedly let her go.

"It's alright," she rubbed one shoulder and then the other with a painful moan. He had definitely left bruises.

"I-I," Travis sighed," I dunno what came over me."

"Well, not that I'm complainin' or nothin', but um... w-why did ya kiss me? I-I mean, we hardly know each other. This ain't no fairy tale, as much as I want it ta be."

"I'm sorry," he mumbled again, turning and walking dejectedly back to his cab.

"C'mon, I'll drive you to the nearest bus stop. You can take the next greyhound home from there." Emily followed closely behind Travis, touching his rough hand gently as he held the front passenger door open for her.

"Why not drive me straight home?" she inquired innocently.

"W-W-What..? Y-Y-You..I-I-I..."Travis stuttered, trying desperately to get his exact feelings out in words.

With a roll of her eyes, Emily reached over and cupped his right cheek with her left hand. She gently lay a kiss right on the hollow of Travis's left cheek, effectively stopping his stammering, as his entire face blushed a deep scarlet.

She whispered her address into his ear, the light tickle of her breath causing a shudder to run through his entire body. Emily let go of him and climbed inside, her small smile growing as Travis snapped out of his trance.

He slowly walked to the other side of the cab, before taking the gun from his back pocket and climbing behind the driver's seat. Bringing the ancient engine to life, he returned the gun to the glove box and drove towards her apartment building in silence.

\-------------------------

Emily felt a little uneasy by the silence that hung heavy between the two of them. With nothing but the rumble of the engine and the roar of the wind to listen to, she decided to turn on the radio.

She switched from station to station, until the drum beat of a very familiar song echoed through the cheap speakers. She cranked the volume, just as the lively voice of Bonnie Tyler belted out her greatest hit to date.

_Where have all the good men gone_   
_And where are all the Gods?_   
_Where's the streetwise Hercules to fight the rising odds?_   
_Isn't there a white knight upon a fiery steed?_   
_Late at night I toss and I turn_   
_And I dream of what I need_

Emily kept an eye on Travis, her smile widening as she mumbled the lyrics to the song, while humming along to the chorus. And despite his best efforts, Travis began tapping his fingers against the wheel in time with the beat.

He wasn't kidding, when he told Betsy that he wasn't into the music scene. But for his sweet librarian, Travis just might make an exception.

_Somewhere after midnight_   
_In my wildest fantasy_   
_Somewhere just beyond my reach_   
_There's someone reaching back for me_   
_Racing on the thunder and rising with the heat_   
_It's gonna take a Superman to sweep me off my feet_

Soon, Travis found himself humming along to beat of the song, as Emily sang with a lovely, lyrical voice that could give Ms. Tyler herself, a run for her money. The lovely librarian voice grew a little louder as kept looking at her handsome taxi driver. It was almost as if she was singing this song just for him.

 _Up where the mountains meet the Heavens above_  
 _Out where the lightning splits the sea_  
 _I could swear there is someone, somewhere_  
 _Watching me_ _Through the wind, and the chill, and the rain_  
 _And the storm, and the flood_  
 _I can feel his approach like a fire in my blood_  
 _Like a fire in my blood, like a fire in my blood_  
 _Like a fire in my blood, like a fire in my oh, oh_

Both Travis and Emily sang aloud to the final play through of the chorus, both of them singing a little off key as the volume of their voices rose in tempo.

"I need a hero!"

The two of them ended the song in a loud shout of laughter, after finally arriving at Emily's apartment building. It was a nice building, in a pretty decent neighborhood. It gave Travis piece of mind, knowing that his sweet librarian lived in a good part of town.

"Well, this is my stop," Emily gathered her purse and took out her keys. "Thanks again for saving my life, sweetheart."

"You don't have to thank me, ma'am. Just doin' my duty." Travis gave her a one handed salute.

"I guess I really do need to be more careful, don't I? I mean, how many times can you save my life?"

"Oh, I don't know. Every time?" he said with a smirk.

Emily giggled as she took a pencil and piece of paper from her purse. She quickly wrote something down, before handing it to Travis.

"What's this?"

"Why it looks like my phone number, silly boy." Emily quipped as she opened the door. Stepping one foot onto the ground, she turned to look back at him. "Need I say more?" Emily carefully climbed out of the cab and shut the door behind her, before walking into her apartment building.

After making sure she was safely inside, Travis drove back to his own shabby apartment; conveniently located right in the heart of Hell's Kitchen. Stopping at a red light, he looked down at the piece of paper held tightly in his hand.

It had a legitimate phone number on it, with the words _Emily Burton_ written on the top and _Call me_ on the bottom. She had such exquisite penmanship. And he really loved the little detail of the heart over the _i_ in Emily.

The poor, lonely taxi driver had been dreaming of a girl like Emily. And now that he had her, Travis made a promise to himself that he was going to protect her. To keep her safe and secure, even if it killed him.


	3. Loneliness Has Always Been A Friend of Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I decided to start the new year off right, by adding a brand new chapter :) enjoy! And, as always, comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.

**Travis**

_September 30_

_I just don't know what the hell had gotten into me. One minute I was chasing away the spooks, rescuing Emily like some knight in shining armor; and the next... I can't really recall exactly what happened next._

_All I remember is this feeling of dread and, fuck I dunno, fear? anger? paranoia? take your pick, rushing through me like water from a burst dam. And then nothing._

_After being so empty for so long, this onslaught of raw, primal emotion was more than I could handle. I think I may have hurt her, but it's not like I meant to. I've just never felt this way, about anyone before._

_The only remnants from the night before, were my swollen lips and the faded melody of a hauntingly familiar song, running through my head. A song about a hero, and the woman he rescued. Our song, I decided._

_And that phone number written on the sheet of paper, with her name and the almost childish words written on the bottom ' Call me.' It was like a scene from a movie; a movie I've watched one too many times, to know how it all will end._

_T. Bickle_

  
One Month Later

Travis was nearly rocked to sleep by the vibrations of his cab's idling engine as he spent another late evening, waiting for his sweet librarian to leave work. His dark, empty eyes never once left her voluptuous figure, as she walked carefully down the public library's stone steps, swiftly catching the 9:10 to Brooklyn.

So many times he had called her, if only to hear that cute, western drawl mispronounce the simplest of words--"ello?" "Why y'all callin' me so late?" "Travis, is that you on tha' phone?"

Despite his best efforts, Travis just couldn't respond in kind. He desperately wanted to say something, anything. A "Hello" or "How's it going, beautiful?"

But every time he opened his mouth...nothing.

And when he followed her around the city, he made sure to stay several yards away. Travis hadn't been able to watch her, every moment of every day, but he did what he could to keep her safe.

He could still feel the fervent softness of her body pressed close to his, chasing away the numbing chill that had settled deep within his bones, over the years. And that kiss. Good fucking lord, just thinking about that kiss got Travis rock hard every time.

_But if everything went so well, why didn't he try to pursue it further?_

This question kept Travis awake night after night; a welcome reprieve from the horrendous nightmares that usually plagued his scrambled thoughts.

Travis wasn't kidding, when he thought of Emily as the girl of his dreams. She knew all about his momentary loss of control, and was more than accepting of it; she had become inspired by it.

While there had been many other women who'd been intrigued by his actions, to say the least, it had all been based around the publicity that followed. None of them wanted anything to do with the _real_ Travis Bickle.

Travis's foggy, sleep deprived mind came to a sudden realization. He couldn't face Emily because he was scared shitless. He was afraid that he would make the exact same mistake with her, he had once made with Betsy; that he would jump the gun and destroy his last, true chance at happiness.

He was a Marine, God damnit!

He shouldn't be afraid of anything!

Travis had faced a whole army of zipper heads back in 'Nam with just a rifle and his wits; had seen grown men blown to bloody pieces before his very eyes. Hell, He'd even taken his military training to the streets, when he killed those pimps to rescue his sweet Iris. He hadn't been afraid of anything, for such a long time.

But when it came to Emily, Travis just couldn't help himself.

From the very first moment, he saw that look of determination on his sweet librarian's face, it was like nothing he had ever seen before. Those wild hazel eyes and that thick brown hair with those captivating red highlights. No other woman could come close.

Travis downed another cup of cheap coffee, his fifth one since lunch, before flipping off his _on duty_ light and driving back to the taxi depot. Normally, he'd work anytime anywhere, as he promised his boss so long ago.

But, being the love struck fool he was, the handsome taxi driver decided to sync his work schedule with his sweet librarian's. And if he didn't hurry, he'd miss her 9:30 Friday night grocery run.

\-------------------------

**Emily**

It had been a month, since Emily went on one of the best dates of her life, not that she had much to compare it to. And she still had yet to hear back from her knight in shining denim and plaid.

Sure there had been the usual 3 AM phone calls full of heavy breathy and slight static, but those didn't last very long. And when she tried calling back, the line was always busy. This wasn't really an unusual occurrence, since moving to New York City over a year ago.

It was practically a right of passage, for all the single ladies in this filthy city: obscene phone calls in the middle of the night; hooting and hollering from construction workers; and the ever present bus creeps, who thought a millisecond of eye contract was an open invitation, to slink as close as possible to the poor, hapless maiden.

What these sick fucks didn't know, however, was that Emily Victoria Burton was fucking insane.

Now when I say insane, I don't necessarily mean a paranoid schizophrenic, multiple murdering psychopath like Jeffery Dahmer or John Wayne Gacy. I mean, a relatively normal, hard working woman suffering from a multitude of fairly severe mental illnesses.

Although, her mental illnesses were practically on par with the aforementioned mad men, Emily's parents had done everything right, in raising their daughter. They provided their child with the very best psychologists, medications, and cognitive therapy sessions that middle class money could buy.

As a result, she was able to make her mental illnesses work for her, rather than against her. To control them, and lead a somewhat normal, law abiding life; for the most part, at least. But that was neither here nor there.

Climbing off the crowded bus, Emily walked to the small grocery store, conveniently located about 3 blocks from her apartment building. A blur of yellow and black flashed in her peripheral vision, disappearing when she turned her head to get a better look.

Every fucking time!

It was like some east coast mirage: a phantom taxi driver, haunting the barren streets of her twisted mind. It had to be Travis, there was no other explanation.

_Why hadn't she heard anything from him?_   
  
_Had she done something wrong?_

_Did she piss him off, somehow?_

_Was he just not that interested in her?_

Their date had been the most fun, she'd had in a long time. And when he saved her from that gang of inner city street punks, it was like something out of an urban fairy tale: the strong, handsome Taxi Driver rescuing the sweet, innocent Librarian.

With a heartbroken sigh, Emily grabbed a small cart and went down her list; absentmindedly throwing things in, as she walked down the aisles. While her body went on auto pilot, her mind drifted back to her first real date in almost 4 years.

The feel of Travis's strong arms wrapped tightly around her supple body, gave her a sense of security unlike anything she'd felt before. And that kiss...Travis had nearly eaten her alive with that kiss, leaving her dizzy and light headed for hours afterward. And when she had finally drifted off to sleep that night, her dreams were only of him.

Emily wasn't really upset that Travis hadn't called right away; a man needed his space, after all. But when several days passed by with no phone call, no flowers, not even a card, she began to get a little worried.

Not to be deterred, she went to several taxi depots and asked about him. But the bosses couldn't give away any personal information about their cabbies. She tried looking up his name in the phone book, but to no avail. She even tried riding several different taxis at different times of the day. Nada.

Maybe this had all been in her head; it certainly would explain a lot.

After making sure, she had everything on her weekly list, Emily turned and headed to the checkout lane. She had just begun loading her groceries onto the conveyor belt, when a scrawny Hispanic teenager snatched the black faux leather purse right off her slender shoulder, on his way out the door.

"GIVE THAT BACK, YA LITTLE MOTHER FUCKIN' ASSHOLE!!!"

Emily screamed, as she chased the little bastard right into a nearby alley. Unlike many of the other women in the city, who would simply stand there and demand a man save the day, the fearless librarian often chose to take matters into her own hands. Damn the consequences.

\-------------------------

**Travis**

It was an hour walk from the taxi depot to Brooklyn, most of which Travis spent deep in thought; the cool October air making him feel awake and alive again, if only for a moment.

Ever since returning to work, days after waking from his coma, the cabbie quickly discovered that no one, not the gangs, not the pimps, not even the whores, dared mess with him. In fact, many of them simply refused to even acknowledge his existence. Which was just fine with him.

Pulling a silver flask from the pocket of his Marine issued olive green military jacket, Travis enjoyed a nice, stiff swig of _Wild Turkey_ on his nightly walk. He really had fucked things up with Emily, he realized that now.

He shouldn't have let his irrational fears, get in the way of what could very well have been a sure thing. Travis should have sent her flowers, or at least a card. He should have let her know that she was always on his mind; that, in such a short amount of time, Emily had become everything to him.

Travis could only hope that it wasn't too late.

Stopping at a portable flower stand, the lonely taxi driver bought some lovely, multi-colored tulips for his darling librarian before walking towards the small grocery store on Court Street.

It was now or never.

A loud scuffle was soon heard, coming from a small alley to Travis's left. It was quickly followed by a Hispanic man's heavily accented voice, angerly shouting in tune with a woman's light, breathy voice. Abandoning the store, the curious cabbie slowly headed towards the alley's narrow entrance.

The last thing Travis ever expected to see, was his sweet librarian beating a teenager, within an inch of his life; using only her fists and an old metal baseball bat. The livid woman would surely have killed the child, had it not been for Travis calling her name.  
\--------------------------  
 **Emily**

The irate librarian chased after the brazen teenager, trapping him in a small alley before he had a chance to get away. As the punk reached into his jacket for his hand gun, Emily slowly knelt down and picked up a metal baseball bat, hidden behind a nearby dumpster.

She leapt at the boy, knocking the gun from his hand as she proceeded to beat him nearly to death; only stopping when she heard a strange man call her name. She turned and froze at the sight of Travis, staring at her from the alley's entrance. He was dressed in his work clothes with a bouquet of flowers held in his lax hands.

"Travis?"

The brightly colored tulips fell to the slate grey concrete, as the older man took off after his sweet librarian; barely avoiding the bat she'd thrown towards him, in her haste to get away. Emily may have had a good head start, but Travis had the advantage of knowing the entire city, like the back of his hand.

Running through the sparse streets of Brooklyn, Emily quickly disappeared into the small crowd. She took several twists and turns, before hiding behind one of the many nearby establishments; attempting to catch her breath, as she held her purse tightly to her chest, tears of frustration running down her flushed cheeks.

Emily was just about to head home, when a pair of strong, sinewy arms wrapped themselves around her arms and chest from behind, pulling her against an incredibly warm, solid chest.

"Shhh, hush now," Travis whispered, running his lips up and down the side of Emily's slender neck.

Her breathing hitched. "T-Travis... let me go."

"No, I don't think so."

Travis held Emily tightly, as she became lost in the throws of a full blown panic attack. Her once limp arms, slowly lifted to wrap around Travis's skeletal yet muscular frame, causing his own grip to loosen until it resembled a warm, loving hug.

Once she finally settled down, he lifted her chin with one finger; Travis's stern, chocolate brown eyes meeting Emily's sparkly hazel. He used both thumbs to wipe away her tears, giving her a small peck on the lips, for good measure.

"C'mon, let's go to your apartment. We need to talk." Travis ordered, in as soft a tone as he could muster. He turned and led Emily towards her apartment building, before she even had a chance to say no.

She wanted to tell him that he didn't own her; that she could do as she damn well pleased. But Emily wisely chose not to, allowing him to lead the way home instead.

The walk home took about 20 minutes, all of which was spent in complete silence. Travis kept an arm wrapped snuggly around Emily, his hand resting firmly on her shoulder. This wasn't really necessary, she wanted to tell him; it's not like she was going to make a run for it again.

But the cabbie wasn't taking any chances.

Not another soul was in sight, as they entered the ancient brick building together. The two climbed the thick metal stairs, walking through Emily's door after she spent a moment or two fighting with the stubborn lock.

Travis couldn't help but notice how nice and roomy her place was; which was kind of unusual, for someone living on a librarian's salary. He sat Emily on a rather nice looking, cream colored microfiber couch before turning on the television.

After finding the kitchen on his own, Travis took two cans of _Budweiser_ from the clean fridge and handed one to Emily. He sat next her and opened his own, taking a swig of the bitter tasting liquid, as the uncomfortable silence between the two became almost unbearable.

Travis was the first to break the heavy silence; softly admonishing Emily for her violent reaction to such an insignificant crime.

Then again, who was he to pass judgement?

While Travis felt no remorse for the murders of those three child molesting monsters, their deaths would forever haunt him; further staining his already filthy soul, an even darker shade of damnation.

But that didn't necessarily mean, he condoned the sort of brutality his sweet librarian displayed, not too long ago. The sort of brutality that nearly led to the death of a child. Sure the kid was on his way to a life of crime and debauchery, but that didn't give Emily the right to try and kill him.

Emily, meanwhile, was sitting silently on her couch, the unopened can of _Budweiser_ held tightly in her death like grip. She listened intently, as Travis went on and on about how she shouldn't let her personal feelings get the best of her.

Her teeth clicked together at the sheer audacity of this man. Who the hell was he, to pass judgement on her? Not only had he taken advantage of her on their first date, but he didn't think to call and see how she was. Or, God forbid, ask her out on a second date.

Her whole body began to shake in barely suppressed anger, just waiting for the perfect words to come into her mind. Words that would put this sanctimonious asshole in his place.

Once Travis said his peace, Emily did the most logical thing she could think of: she slapped him...hard. A flash of red hot pain spread throughout his right cheek, followed by the bitter voice of his sweet librarian.

"How fuckin' dare you!"

Emily grounded out as she stood from the couch and walked to the kitchen. Taking an ice pack from the freezer, she threw it at Travis before slumping back down. She glared daggers at him, as he held the ice pack to his throbbing cheek.

Travis knew that Emily's actions towards him were completely justified. He was acting like a bit of a hypocrite, after all; considering the young black man he shot in retaliation, for trying to rob his friend's store. The fifth one that year, if he remembered right.

Emily spoke up again in a harsh whisper.

"Where the hell have you been!?"

Travis had no idea where to start. How could he tell her that it was his deep seated fears of heartbreak and rejection, which kept him from contacting her. That he was afraid, this would all end in misery.

"You have every right to be mad at me." he replied.

"No fuckin' shit!"

Travis lowered his head in shame.

"But that still didn't give me the right to hit ya, like that," Emily muttered with a sigh "I'm sorry, sweetie."

Emily knew Travis's heart was in the right place, even if his mind wasn't.

The lovely librarian gently grabbed her handsome taxi driver's wrist and lowered it. Removing the ice pack, she lay a soft butterfly kiss on his bruised cheek, smiling when his entire face flushed bright red. She put the ice pack back on with another heartfelt apology.

"It's alright beautiful. I kinda had that one coming, for awhile now."

After her anger dissipated, Emily came to the conclusion that Travis was right. God how she hated to be wrong.

"I guess, I should be grateful that you didn't forget about me."

"Why would I forget about you?"

"Because all the guys I go on a date with, end up forgettin' about me, sooner or later."

Travis nodded in understanding; he could certainly relate. Ever since his disasterous second date with Betsy, and the events that followed, the poor cabbie soon learned the true meaning of being lonely.

"To be completely honest, I don't think I could ever forget about someone, like you." Travis said, teasingly

Emily giggled with a blush of her own. Laying her hand on Travis's knee; she lovingly rubbing it with her thumb, as he told her about what happened with Betsy.

"You mean to tell me that you actually took a girl to a porno, on your second date?" Emily laughed.

"Hey, it's not like I meant anythin' by it. Porn movies were all I ever really watched back then."

"Well, I guess takin' her to _Sometime Sweet Susan_ wasn't too bad. Although, you probably would have had better luck, takin' her to see _Party at Kitty and Studs_. I mean, what girl could possibly resist _The Italian Stallion_?"

Travis was shocked at her brazen confession. Most women didn't talk about dirty movies, in that tone of voice. Emily was truly something special.

"I don't suppose, you'd be willing to give me a second chance, would you?" He asked, trying hard not to seem too desperate.

"I suppose, I could," Emily replied teasingly. "As long as you promise, not to leave me in that dark like that again."

"You got it! So...what really brought you to New York City? Besides the climate, I mean."

"I was actually going through a really tough time, last year. I lost my job, got kicked out of my apartment. And, as if that wasn't bad enough, my parents died in a horrible car crash.

"Jesus Christ."

"Yeah. So, I decided the best thing to do, was to just get away from it all, you know. Make a fresh start in a brand new place. A cousin of mine used to live in Manhattan, and made friends with the head librarian at the NYPL. He put in a good word for me, and here I am."

"Is that right?"

"Mhmmm. In fact, that's how I found about you. I was working through re-organizing the old microfilm and microfiche from the past 10 years, and found some articles about the "Heroic Taxi Driver" who murdered 3 child molesting creeps, to save the life of a child prostitute. And..well...it kinda changed my whole outlook on life."

"Oh, it did, did it?"

Emily nodded.

Travis thought back to the mysterious passenger from years ago, who talked about killing his wife for sleeping with a black guy. He remembered the small man, with his dark hair and bushy beard, casually talking about taking a .44 magnum to a woman's pussy.

At first, the cabbie didn't know if this guy was real, or just a fucked up fantasy. Regardless, he had persuaded Travis, to use his military training against the scum of the city, rather than try to forget it and live a typical, boring life. Travis had wanted to find meaning in his otherwise empty life, and he did.

"What's wrong?" He asked Emily, noticing how she had gone completely silent in the interim.

Her mouth opened and shut several times, trying to put into words, what was on her busy mind.

"Travis, there's somethin' I need to tell you."

"What is it?"

"I-I'm..um, I'm not exactly what you'd call.. normal."

"What do you mean?"

"I have quite a few um... ya know, mental issues," Emily said, twirling her index finger in the universal sign for 'crazy'.

"No kiddin'," Travis uttered nonchalantly "You sure don't seem all that fucked up in the head, to me."

Emily grinned, relieved that her mental illnesses didn't seem to bother Travis, as it did with the other men she dated.

"That's because my parents put me through the ringer for 13 years. Ya know, psychiatrists, meds, group therapy, the works."

"Huh."

"That doesn't bother you, does it?"

"Why would it?" Travis shrugged "I've never been what most people would call normal myself. And my time spent in 'Nam only made things worst."

"I got back home after spending 2 years in the field, and was diagnosed with depression, anxiety, insomnia, thoughts of suicide, all that jazz. The Military made me talk to a therapist, but all he did was diagnose me with PTSD, give me some powerful sedatives, and send me on my way."

"Well, that certainly explains alot." Emily chuckled, causing Travis to roll his eyes amusingly. He took the ice pack off his cheek and threw it on the small wooden coffee table, the bruise having faded to a lighter shade of pink.

"Hell, I'm not that much better myself. I've got severe depression, paranoia, schizotypal disorder, intermittent explosive disorder, and something called 'austim.' I'm just one big melting pot of insanity."

"God damn, woman! Maybe they outta lock you up and throw away the key."

"Don't think my parents hadn't been tempted to do so, in the past."

With a smirk, Travis began mumbling the lyrics to _they're coming to take me away_. Jennifer rolled her eyes and shook her head at his sick attempt at dark humor.

"Believe it or not, smart ass, it was your reckless actions that not only encouraged me to take control of my mental illnesses, but to use them against the parasites that infest this city. Since I can understand the way they think better than most, I'm really the only one the cops can turn to, whenever they need an expert on the subject."

"Huh, how about that?"

The two then sit in companionable silence for several minutes, watching a new episode of _American Bandstand_. As Travis watched the young couples dance together on screen, something came to mind. 

"Emily?"

"Hmmm?"

"I ain't really much for poetry or music, but I heard these lyrics on the radio the other day, and they kinda reminded me of you."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

Travis threw his right arm around Emily's shoulder and pulled her close, whispering the lyrics of an all too familiar song into her ear: "Looking hard into your eyes, there was nobody I'd ever known. Such an empty surprise, to feel so alone."

"I think, I may have heard that song before," she whispered back: "You never knew what I loved in you, I don't know what you loved in me. Maybe the picture of somebody you were hoping I might be."

After breaking out into raucous laughter, The two new lovers talked long through the night, and into early morning. As they conversed like old friends; laughing and joking like before, they began to realize just how alike they really were.

The sun had just began to rise over the skyscrapers, when they decided to call it a night. Luckily, neither was scheduled to work the next day, which would allow Travis to catch up on some much needed sleep.

After finishing their beers, Travis and Emily stood from the couch with a stretch. Turning off the television, they threw their empty beer cans away and headed to the door.

"Oh, hun. Could you do me a quick favor, before you head home?" Emily asked, with a yawn.

"Sure."

"Could you check in with that kid I beat, and make sure he's not dead?"

"You got it, beautiful," Travis said with an amused chuckle.

They shared a quick kiss goodnight, as Travis left for home. He stood in the hallway, just long enough to hear the heavy wooden door lock behind him. While Brooklyn was a decent place to live, compared to other parts of the city, it still didn't keep the brave taxi driver from worrying about his sweet librarian. 

He would just need to keep a closer eye on her, from now on.


End file.
